Question of the Day

Who are we kidding, this is like the question of the weekend because it falls on a friday. Nevertheless:



So the question is:

What are you gonna do to help this little fella?

Really. What is your plan? Give me at least three steps.

Clip of the Week

Hola adoring public! So here we are at another Friday! Woohoo! And you know what that means...

CLIP OF THE WEEK!


As seen on Break.com

Perhaps the first mistake was setting the interview four inches from the horses rear end. Either way, my man's face has to be wet after that. I mean, he straight stared down this horse's blowhole.

Enjoy your weekend.

God save the Cheese.

Question of the Day

Alright, so what is the best fastfood breakfast out there?

Note: I am not just asking for a restaurant name. I want your order as well.

Commericals and Confessions (hey that's a great title for an album...hrmmm.)

Hello little cheesy ones (translating my usual greeting)! So today is getting off to an awesome start. The most incredible woman in the world accidentally did not reset the alarm when she got up this morning, so I overslept and came to work over an hour late. So what do I do when I get there? I check my emial. I go on Itunes. I look seriously at a few upcoming concerts in the area. And I update the old blog. I'm a team player.

COMMERCIAL TIME:

1. The kiddo -

So, I promise to post ultrasound photos soon. I keep forgetting to scan them. I know that many of you are dreading this blog becoming a first-time dad's doating blog, but hey--you gets what you pay for.



2. The season -

I promise you that by the end of the month you will be reading what you know you want:

THE HIGH CHEESE'S COLLEGE FOOTBALL PREVIEW - 2006!!!

Now if you aren't standing up and screaming out HooHah! then you're normal. But you should be excited if you are into such things.



3. The music -

I promise you that very soon I will establish a purevolume page and display some of my music. I joke about dropping my album sometimes, but I actually have been working on some stuff--you'll hear it soon.



Well, enough commercials. I will end with a serious confession:

Let me officially acknowledge that I miss the Tater. He was always up for a concert, and I was always up for a concert. Now we are separated, and we have to go to shows alone. That is so weak. We suffer for music, and perhaps one day it will bless us richly for our suffering.

God save the Cheese.

Question of the Day

What is your favorite Italian food restaurant?

Happy Wednesday!

Short & Sweet:

Still bad at tennis.

Gonna go eat to drown my sorrows.

God save the Cheese.

Question of the Day

You have one night with the woman of your dreams, and you have one date to impress her.

What's your plan?


Note: Ladies, you can make this the man of your dreams.

Helpful Hints for Living #32

A 4x4 is pretty much all that stands between a potential butthole and a butthole.

Question of the Day

Don't be affraid...Tell it al brothers and sisters:

What song are you ashamed to admit that you know all the words to?

Further Evidence of my Detardation

Hola Quesolitos. The Highest Cheese here with yet more proof that I am indeed a complete moron.

So it alll started about a week ago when I woke up (which I am pretty sure is incorrect english, but I awakened sounds a bit too snobby for the story...hmmm). It was a normal morning so after waking up, I layed there for a moment thanking God for this another day while simultaneously asking him why this another day couldn't have been enjoyed a couple of hours later into it. Nevertheless, I rose from the bed and went to the bathroom (overshare? No way. We share it all, right here. Because I love you.), washed my hands (largely because I am now OCD about handwashing due to spending summers at my grandmother's house--she used to tell us grandkids that if we didn't wash our hands after we went to the bathroom we would "get worms or AIDS." No lie. That is what she would say. Now, it is a complete falsehood that one can get AIDS from contact with their own bodily fluids, but we didn't know that. All we knew was Ryan White wasn't lookin' any better. Bottom line: We're all a little OCD about handwashing. Desired effect obtained, grandot. Touche.) Where was I...

So I wash my hands and then I reach for my toothbrush. I slather on the paste and start the water> I was even doing the whole conservation thing--turning off the water between brush rinses. At least for a bit...

But then I innocently brushed my tongue.

And when I spit, it looked like soy sauce.

Now, reader, I can assure you that the alst time I was scared like that was...well, it was when the most incredible woman in the world were forced into a North Jersey cab at 1:00 in the morning sitting by a guy who was eyeing us and nodding to the driver as the driver drove us deep into the ghettos of NOrth Jersey. Oh I was ready to fight to the death that night. But that's another story for another time. Needless to say, I was scared, really scared.

I brushed harder and spat again. Brown! More brushing, spit...Brown! More brushing--ignoring my gag reflex and the now wastefully rushing water--BROWN! Oh no! Oh no! Brown, Brown, Brown. I cried out, "But I washed my hands each time!!!" (Just kidding, I did not cry that out.)

Actually I kept scrubbing until my tongue was plump and bruised , but pink; and the spit--which I was now mustering from anywhere I could get it--was all clear and normal. Crisis at least temporarily averted.

Well, then there is a dilemma. The most incredible woman in the world is a medical professional, and a darn good one at that. She is an RN. But do you tell the one you love about such awful maladies as had afflicted my mouth? Would she ever kiss me again? So I thought about it, and I actually came to the conclusion that I would try to work it into a conversation non-chalantly. So lie. So here we are talking about tennis when I tried to work this one in...

MIWITW: "My serve wasn't working today."

Me: "It'll come around."

MIWITW: "We need to practice more."

Me: "So yeah, this morning while I was brushing my tongue my spit looked like motor oil. Whaddaya make of that?"

Not as smooth a transition as I was hoping. Nevertheless, the look on her face let me know about the kissing thing. She tried to recompose herself, only to gag a little and say, "really?"

So I went to bed alone that night...Oh, she was there too, but I was alone...with my big brown tongue. Just me and the doodoo mouth. My worst fears were coming true.

Well, the next morning I awoke and had only one thought swarming in my mind. I ran to the mirror.

NOTHING!!! Well, I mean, my tongue was there and that was something. But: PINK!!! seemed a little awkward. The point is...no brown tongue.

I'll save you the details and let you know that my whole: "So that tongue thing cleared up" comment was also not-so-skillfully emplloyed, nor did it have its desired effect.

A normal day full of spicy food and antacid later...I'm in the sack (still alone).

I awoke without a worry and went to the bathroom for the morning regimen (you could set your watch by my bowels. another overshare.). I brushed and spit...

BROWN! Oh god, why? It's back. I have some awful form of worms or AIDS or herpes or something that has mutated and become airborn. It's monkey pox. It must be.

I brushed my self swollen and clean again--but I knew I wasn't really clean. My tongue would rot off soon.

This time I consulted a different medical expert: The Internet.

I went to Web MD and searched brown tongue. It will suffice to simply say that all of the yes-no question diagnoses in the world that result in a wait and see answer that does not even hint at naming one's affliction are not worth the time spent cursing them out.

I dug deeper. I googled brown tongue.

Now let me say that one must be careful what one googles. The internet can be an awful place.

I selected my site carefully--I clicked on the first site. It was some blog about dookie. My kind of place. Actually, the discussion thread was exactly what I was looking for. It was here that I first found out that chewable Pepto Bismal tablets can cause a "temporary, yet harmless darkening of the tongue and stool."

Come to think of it, my stool had been...nevermind.

The point is: I am not rotting. I do not have any worms or AIDS or Hepatitus. I have a big fat box of Pepto Chewables that does God knows what to my insides if this is what happens to the visible parts of me that come into contact with it.

I am no longer alone...unless we eat spicy late. Then I am alone with my big brown tongue.

God save the Cheese.

Question of the Day

What is your next major purchase going to be?

Note: Keep in mind that "major" is subjective. In college the answer could have been something like a $35 import CD. For millionaires this is a yacht. The point is not for us all to be equal, socialists...the point is for me to know what crap you want to buy next.

Clip of the Week

Hola, quesolitos.

Here is your clip of the week, because I care for you like no other can:


As seen on Break.com

This kid is so juiced about his new N64 that he can't hold it in. From box drum solo to fist pump so fluidly--this is how we all should feel every Christmas.

God save the cheese.

Baby, wait!

Boo, please believe me when I say to you that I have never loved you more.

Sure, baby, I know you saw me talking to that other girl...but she don't mean nothing to me. She can't compare with you. I mean, she's nothing to me, but you, baby, you...are my girl. And ain't nothing going to change that.

Baby, if I could take it back, I would. If I could change the past, I would. But I can't, because of all the things I am, I am simply not a miracle worker. I'm just a man. I'm just a low down no good dirty lyin' cheatin' man. I'm just a man--with all the weakness of a man. But I am a man in love with you. I'm a man with all the strength of a man. I'm a man so crazy in love with you that I can't figure out which way is up anymore.

And sometimes I play the fool. I know. But the truth is that I'm always yours. Those other girls don't mean anything, and they know that too. You mean everything baby. Please give me one more chance. I'll love you right, girl. I'll be good to you. I'll c are for you like no other man can.

Don't leave me baby, please. Please.

I love you.

Question of the Day

Besides the king and queen, which chess piece do you believe is most valuable for your gameplan.

Tuesday Morning Meeting

Hola quesolitos. Sorry about yesterday, it was a long weekend for me, so I couldn't find the time to post. I know that I may have kept some of you up at night, but trust me, it was not without purpose or thought for how distraught you must have been.

Well, here's the skinny on this morning...I'm supposed to be in the tuesday morning staff marathon...I mean meeting.

But it's 8:42 and I'm the only one here.

Do you think they cancelled and didn't tell me?
Do you think they are all late?
Do you think they are playing a mean joke on me?
Do you think they all quit?
Do you think the rapture occured and I'm the only one left behind here? (of course if you're reading this, bed news for you too.)
Maybe they moved the meeting to starbuck's or somewhere more beneficial to me...I mean somewhere more productive and efficient.

Maybe I should quit crying and have some fun in the office while I can.

See you later. God save the cheese.

Question of the Day

Got any plans for this weekend?

Goodbye Mr. Zidane

Hola quesolitos! How is this wonderful Friday for you? I hope it is treating you with the wonder and grace that it is treating me. Oh yeah, by the way, did I mention that Italy won the world cup? Well they did. Congrats to them. But today, now having had time to think about all that transpired, I need to comment on the most important play of the game--the headbutt.

Okay so there is some newsreport and conflicting stories about Zinadine Zidane getting called a terrorist by the Italian player and defending his honor. But all of this is really trifling compared to the heart of the matter.

Think about it...it is his last international match...his final shot at the biggest and most prestigious trophy in his sport...his memory and his legacy being capped by this night...this is the final international words of the one affectionately called Zizu--the maestro.

And some italian defender starts the play by giving him a little purple nurple action after which they begin a little laughing banter. Then the Italian guy says something objectionable. Now at this point, for most of us it would not matter what he said, we would have wanted our cooler heads to prevail so that we could finish the match. But not Zidane.

He decides that it doesn't matter if his team loses a man for the rest of the match, the remark crossed the line, and whether or not his memory is ruined, this guy deserves an extra heartbeat.





And actually, it is this that in some odd way I respect. Sure, it shows a lack of teamsmanship--but are there times when a person simply can't let something go unpunished? Sure, it is a lack of sportsmanship--but both ways. I will tell you what he didn't lack: CONVICTION! And no one will ever question his heart. He cares. Period. He cares. You don't act right...you get smack'd right. You step outta line, and it don't even matter if it's the biggest game of my life, I'll gut you like cattle. I'll give you an arythmia. Who's next? And not a single Philistine would come forward to challenge the shepherd for they trembled with fear.

I was also impressed that he was so angry, he forsook his fists and went straight to the good old fashioned headbutt. Kudos to you right there, Zizu.

It is moments like this that fascinate and inspire me.

And just cuz I luv y'all so much...the video links to some pretty good games...we will consider it the link of the week.

God save the Cheese.

Question of the Day

In honor of the passion and joy that can be found in a game I simply have no natural ability at, I offer this:

What do you wish you were better at than you actually are?

Tennis (a good time...yerp)

Hey tehre quesolitos. In my quest for a more active life, I played tennis today.

Yep, still bad.

God save the quesolitos.

Follow-up

Yeah, so unlike most of you out there in cyberspace, I called the poison control center hotline.

Turns out they weren't being as alarmist as they could have been. I mean, sure, this stuff is a bio-terror weapon waiting to happen, but hey, whaddaryagonnado?

So the guy looks up the product and is surprised at the seriousness of this particular incident. At first he asked me if my arm was feeling okay. Upon my answer that it felt as good as the rest of me, just a lot cleaner, he sobered me up by asking if there was any persistant irritation..."like painful burning." I answered properly, "no." and stopped laughing at my own jokes. Then he inquired as to the health of my other fish in the tank, "Are they still alive?" I thought to myself, Good Lord, what is this stuff...battery acid? He followed that up with a fairly concerned, "Well, you should be fine, but definitely limit your exposure to the product (you mean I cant soak my underwear in it overnight?), and if chemical burns begin to develop you need to get to an emergency room immediately."

He then told me not to dispose of the product in an indoor or outdoor sink. This made me curious: "What sink can I use?" I laughed at my joke again.

"No sink is safe for this product." He didn't laugh, but he did sign off, "Have a nice day." I don't think he meant that.

My arm has yet to develop chemical burns and has not fallen off. I am in the clear, but I better stop thinking about that product or it may get angry. I will not taunt it, or breathe in its general direction too often either. And neither should any of you.

God saved the Cheese.

Question of the Day

First, read the Had-a-Snail post. Then answer:

Would you have called the poison control center?

Had-a-snail

Okay, so I got the most wonderful woman in the world an aquarium for her birthday. Things are going great, most of the fish are happy (excepting the two who are dead now), and life is good. And then one day, out of nowhere...a snail. He was little, but still a snail. Hmmmm...I thought to myself..."How'd that little fella get in there." After a brief thought, I went on with my day.

The next morning, there were two more little fellas. Uh-oh.

I asked some friends who informed me that snails are asexual and can reproduce quickly and without a partner. I became alarmed.

"Yeah we had one try to take over our tank a few months back," a friend chortled.

Take over!!! I thought to myself.

So I went and bought this product called HAD-A-SNAIL. It was six dollars. The salesperson chuckled as he gave it to me. The cashier rang it up normally. I get home to use it and begin to open the package. I turn it over to figure out how much to use and find the right paragraph (50 drops...who counts 50 drops!? Surely that equals a teaspoon or something. Anyway. So I make a small mess getting the drops right, and then I see the papa snail crawl out and he was sizeable. So I reach in and grab the son of a gun. Ha! Out he went and I walked away feeling proud.

As I am repackaging the product I look at the box and below the directions is a paragraph on the dangers of this product. Of course swallowing it was bad for you, but so was exposure to the skin. Having just reached into my tank, I became alarmed. I read on, and here was the recommended treatment as typed directly onto the packaging:

If on skin:

• Take off contaminated clothing
• Rinse skin immediately with plenty of water for 15-20 minutes.
• Call poison control center or doctor for treatment advice.

Yeah, I thought it was a bit alarmist as well. I have taken off the contaminated clothing (a golf shirt that dipped into the water as my arm was in the tank. Also, I flushed with plenty of water for fifteen minutes. I have yet to call the poison control center, but may give it a shot in a moment.

If my arm rots off, that may hurt my budding mmusic career.

Well, pray for me. God save the cheese.

Golf Outing

Hola quesolitos... Happy Monday.

Spoiled another good walk today.

Shot a sorry 57.

Sadly, that is not a terrible day for me.

God save the cheese.

Question of the Day

Old School Rap,

New School Rap,

or New School Rap that claims to be Old School?

Which one and why?

3 Recommendations

Hola quesolitos. It is a good time to be alive. Now I know what you're thinking...and the bottom line is yeah, sometimes, but perhaps you shouldn't ask so many personal questions. Actually, I have no way of knowing what you're thinking. But that is not the point. The point is that today I want to recommend three things to you:

Recommendation #1: You really need to read Dan Brown's "Angels and Demons."

It is a wonderful book with lots of intrigue and excitement--a bit of catholic bashing, but nothing like the DaVinci Code--and all in all forced me to exclaim upon finishing it: "That was even better than the DaVinci Code." Enjoy it, if you have not already.

Recommendation #2: Diet Pepsi

no really. Have you tried it lately? I'm being serious. Read the side of the bottle: "Clean. Crisp. Refreshing." Now I would argue that this is some of the most honest advertising in the business. It tastes clean. It tastes crisp. It tastes refreshing. Now, mind you, if you are looking for a drink that tastes like Pepsi, you will be sorely let down. It doesn't taste like Pepsi at all. And that is a strength I think. Not be cause I hate Pepsi, but because the drink stands on it's own as its own flavor...or, if you will, flava.

Recommendation #3: Kozo

God bless that dancing hippo in a sumo thong! By the way, kiddos, this makes Kozo our official link of the week!

KOZO


Enjoy.

God save the Cheese.

Question of the Day

Peanut Butter and Jelly

or

Peanut Butter and Banana

or

Peanut Butter and something else?


Oh yeah, also identify which flavor jelly, or what the "something else" actually is.

Back Home Again In Indiana...Again

OKay, quesolitos, I know that it has been a while, but I have been traveling and I have been exceptionally busy. I know that I have neglected you, and I promise to you this day that I shall never, I repeat: Never!, leave you again without so much as a word or notice or some form of daily encouragement...at least until next time. And you can take that to the bank...probably. Alright, so on with the fun!

So last night was Uncle Sam's birthday! How 'bout those fireworks!!! Let me rephrase that: Anderson, Indiana...what gives? I sat and watched holding my spot for an hour and a half so that I could see that??? Seriously, I would rather watch pigeons forage or an insurance seminar. I could have set that off in my backyard. I mean there were full twenty second gaps between minor pops. Really...which towns fireworks display actually includes a segment dedicated to roman candles? Roman candles??? Are you serious?

I realize that in evceryway this is an unfair comparison, but Anderson's fireworks proved no match for Philly's fireworks which I also caught Saturday night. The fireworks in Philadelphia on the Delaware river are something you should try and see before you die. They are not the best in the world, but they are really consistently good. It's like the whole show is almost a finale speed until you actually see ther finale which is insane.

Well, another year until someone gets another opportunity to destroy their hand.

God save the cheese.